


Three's A Party, Four's An Orgy

by NadiaHart



Category: Supernatural, Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angels, Bad Puns, Blowjobs, Bottom Dean, Bottom Derek Hale, Bottom Stiles Stilinski, Dean Winchester - Freeform, Derek Hale - Freeform, Established Castiel/Dean Winchester, Established Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Foursome - M/M/M/M, Grumpy Castiel, Grumpy Derek, Hair-pulling, M/M, Meet-Cute, Power Bottom Stiles Stilinski, Sassy Dean, Sassy Stiles, Talkative Stiles, Top Castiel, Top Dean, Top Derek, Werewolves, brooding castiel, castiel - Freeform, stiles stilinski - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-26
Updated: 2018-04-26
Packaged: 2019-04-28 00:56:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14437974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NadiaHart/pseuds/NadiaHart
Summary: It’s Stiles birthday and he only wants one thing: to be ridden hard and put away wet, from both ends. Now Derek is always more than a willing participant for Stiles requests in the bedroom, however, this time Stiles has something else in mind, particularly more than one something. After a little discussion and a little growling, they agree, adding a partner to their sex-capades–(”Don’t call it that, Stiles.”)[”Don’t be such a Sourwolf, Derek, that’s what they are. I’m just calling it as it is.”]-is something they both want. What they don’t count on is running into two men who are so striking they can’t seem to choose. And lucky for Stiles they seem to come as a package deal. ‘Cause hey, three might be a party, but fours an orgy. An orgy that has Stiles smack dab in the sloppy center of it.





	Three's A Party, Four's An Orgy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cryptomoon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cryptomoon/gifts).



> **HAPPY BIRTHDAY CRYPTO**  
>  So this fic was created as a birthday gift from me(obviously) to one of my favorite people, [@Cryptomoon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cryptomoon/profile)! Thank you so much for all you do and for always, _always_ giving your all to us and the [#ProfoundBond Discord Server.](https://discord.gg/GGbw2NP)
> 
> You're the glue that keeps us together, you're the reason we work so hard, your love makes the server a family. I'm so happy you found me and adopted my pervy ass as one of your own. Love you, mom! 
> 
> Now, because of that I've taken two of your favorite pairings, four of your favorite people, and made them all fuck one another! Cause nothing says _Happy Birthday_ like orgasms and orgies! **Huzzah!**

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Derek sighs as the bouncer runs his black light over Stiles ID for the third time.

“Hell yeah, dude,” Stiles says, smiling up at the bouncer while rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet. The bouncer clicks his light and hands Stiles back his ID, the skeptical look still on his face as he presses the paid stamp to the back of Stiles hand and lets them inside.

“It’s  _ my  _ birthday and you said that I could have whatever I want.” Stiles bats his lashes at Derek who huffs a harsh breath out of his nose. “I want your dick up my ass and a cock down my throat and I want to come a whole bunch of times. I  _ want _ to find some hot rando and I want to bring them home and fuck their brains out.  _ And _ I want you to do that glaring thing you do so well, yeah that’s the one. No don’t stop, well at least save some glaring for later. And I wanna be covered in jizz and so exhausted from how many times I’ve orgasmed that you have to either lick me clean or carry me to the bathroom and prop me up in the –”

Derek growls, his eyes flashing red for the briefest moment, nostrils flaring and Stiles smirks.

He licks his lips as they wander up to the bar, rubbing his palms together and scouting the possibilities. He’s just deciding that there’s a guy over by the jukebox he’d like to talk to when Derek pushes up behind him, caging him in between his heavily muscled arms and the bar. Stiles shivers at the burning heat seeping into his back as Derek leans in and breathes against the shell of Stiles’s ear.

“My cock not enough for you all of a sudden?” He punctuates his question with a slow roll of his hips against Stiles ass.

“You know it is, but we’ve been talking about this for a while now and you  _ agreed, _ Derek.” Stiles tries not to whine but he does, spinning in the cage of Derek’s arms so he can pout at him. “You know I like it when you get possessive, and we both agreed that this is something we wanted. Something that would–”

“Fine,” Derek grumps and he darts forward to press a kiss to Stiles lips. 

“Great, now go brood over there. How am I supposed to–”

“Pardon me.”

Stiles stops mid-sentence and his eyes going wide, a little squeak escaping his throat. The man that has pushed up to the bar next to them is  _ exactly _ what he’s looking for. Tall, dark hair, light eyes, fair skin, a jaw that could cut glass and by the way he glances down his nose at Stiles with his crystal blue eyes cold and unimpressed, he’s all top in the bedroom. 

“I can smell your arousal from here,” Derek whispers and Stiles rips his eyes from the newcomer. 

“Shove it,” Stiles grumbles out of the corner of his mouth, pushing Derek back with a palm to his chest before nestling up to the dude and putting on his flirtiest smile. 

“Two beers, whatever is on tap.” The man’s voice is so low he practically growls his order at the bartender, pulling a wallet from the depths of his tan trenchcoat. Stiles shivers at the deep rumbling sound of this guys voice and wonders absently what the chances are of him finding another werewolf tonight. Like, maybe he’s just a werewolf magnet? Maybe he attracts them? His thoughts get away from him as he stares into space and before he realizes it Mr. Trenchcoat is stepping away from the bar, two pint glasses in hand and heading for the pool table.

“Fuck,” Stiles curses flagging, the bartender back down and ordering a rum and coke and a beer. Pulling a little vial from his pocket he slips a hint of wolfsbane into Derek’s beer, because this is obviously a human bar and they don’t cater to the needs of his wolfy boyfriend.

He scoots over to Derek who is smirking in that way that makes Stiles roll his eyes. “Shut up,” he snarks sipping his coke and watching Mr. Trenchcoat strip off his jacket and hang it on a hook by the pool table. “I want him, he’s the one,” Stiles says, eyes locked on his wide shoulders, thick tan neck, and long-fingered hands as he reaches out and grabs a pool stick.

“I’ll never say you don’t have a type,” Derek hums into his cup. “But I think you’ve got some competition.” His eyebrows lift slightly and Stiles drags his gaze away from Derek’s lips back over to the pool table. Mr. Trenchcoat — now officially Mr. BlueTie — is standing infuriatingly close to a sandy brown haired man wearing a flannel, their hips practically pressed together as the new dude leans over the table to rack the balls. 

He can’t really fault Mr.BlueTie though, as Stiles appreciates the full curve of Flannel Dude’s backside and the muscular stretch of his thighs. Mr. BlueTie presses a palm to the small of Flannel Dude’s back and it’s  _ so _ not in the platonic bros kinda way.

“Looks like you might have to pick some–” Derek chokes, his eyes going wide, wolfsbane laced beer dribbling down his chin. If Stiles was the jealous type– which he so isn’t by the way– he’s sure Derek’s reaction would have him seething, but as it turns out, it doesn’t because Flannel Dude is fucking smoking hot. 

“That’s just not fair,” Stiles complains as he and Derek suddenly and inexplicably become the attention of not only Mr. BlueTie but also, after a nudge, Flannel Dude. “No two people should be that hot.”

“We’re that hot,” Derek grunts as he sips his beer again. 

“Aww, Sourwolf. You think I’m hot?” Stiles flirts as Derek lifts his hand and shoves Stiles head lightly.

“No, this whole thing has just been a pity fuck,” Derek says blandly, his eyes lifting to the couple by the pool table. “Fourteen months of pity fucking those perfect lips and biting along that long neck until it’s purple with my claim.” He sighs tiredly but Stiles can tell he’s just being overly dramatic. “So many nights of pounding that tight ass until you’re incoherent and babbling, begging me to let you come.”

It’s Stiles turn to choke and he does so, spectacularly. “Fuck, Derek.”

“That guy’s not human,” Derek says over the rim of his glass and Stiles eyes snap over to the couple. Sure enough Mr. BlueTie has a light flush tinting the tips of his ears like he’s heard every naughty thing Derek just said. His lips are pinched and his brows tipped low, though, like he knows he’s been caught, supernatural creature in a human bar, to supernatural creature in a human bar.

“Better go over and say hi then,” Stiles says, grabbing Derek by his wrist and dragging him bodily across the bar over to the pool table.

The couple watches them approach and, fuck, if those twin glowers don’t send heat surging through Stiles body. He never understood what it was about a person who could possibly kill him without even laying a finger on him, but Stiles just gets off on being with dangerous individuals. 

“Yooo,” he says, sliding up next to the pool table, all lopsided smirk and friendly wave. The guy in the flannel flicks his green eyes over Stiles body and he can’t help but stand a little taller under that calculating gaze. 

“Aren’t you a little young to be in here?” He asks and woah, Stiles wants to roll his eyes back and moan at the slight southern lilt to his voice, the low rumbling drawl that scorches over his body like a physical caress.

“Not in the slightest. In fact, today’s my birthday.” Stiles licks his lips and does his own perusal of Flannel Dude and he is not disappointed in what he finds. God, he wants to lick this dude. “Stiles,” he says holding his hand out.

“Dean.” Mr.BlueTie growls in warning, so low Stiles almost misses it. He shifts to stand behind Dean’s shoulder, blue eyes wary and fixed on Derek.

“What kind of name is Stiles?” Dean asks, as his warm calloused hand slips into Stiles. His grip is sure and tight and Stiles wants to feel his rough fingers squeezing his naked skin.

“The kind I’d like to hear you moaning later,” Stiles says as their hands slip apart. He can almost feel the smugness dripping off Derek at his shoulder as Dean blanches and Mr. BlueTie frowns. 

Dean recovers first, a cocksure smile tilting his lips as he leans his hip up against the pool table. “Aren’t you a little young to be hitting on men twice your age?”

“Unless you’re 48 you’re not twice my age.  _ Aaaand _ , even if you were, those lips you’ve got would still have caught my eye,” Stiles responds and is pleased to see Dean’s lip twitch in the ghost of a smirk.

“Speak for yourself.” Dean says his palm sliding over the cue shaft, fingers curling sensuously as his eyes dip to gaze at Stiles mouth. He indulges, because he’s nothing if not a little shit, and slowly licks his bottom lip. 

“Dean,” Cas growls again, his hand cupping Dean’s elbow firmly.

“Chill, Cas,” Dean responds glancing quickly over his shoulder. His green eyes return to Stiles and he tilts his hips forward a bit, crossing his boots at the ankle. Every sign Dean’s giving off says he’s interested and anticipation curls like hot wax in Stiles stomach, heady and malleable. 

“Dean,” Cas growls and pulls on his elbow again. “That one’s not…. not exactly  _ human _ .” He snarls, eyes narrowed on Derek. Dean’s head snaps around, his lazy flirtatious smile gone as his gaze hardens and narrows. 

Derek huffs lowly and mumbles into his drink, “I knew this wasn’t going to work.”

“Now, wait just a secon–” Stiles tries as the tension rackets up.

“What are you,” Dean asks and the lines of his body harden, exude danger, and Stiles wants to melt against him, feel the rigid planes of his body give under Stiles talented fingers and mouth. Derek rolls one thick shoulder his eyes cold.

“You first,” Derek says without a hint of emotion, eyes fixed on Cas standing just behind Dean’s shoulder.

“How?” Cas stammers eyes wide.

“Takes one to know one,” Derek says nonchalantly. 

“Now that we’ve got that out of the way, how about a wager?” Stiles asks attempting to redirect the conversation, he’s not willing to giving up on his birthday wish just yet. As Dean glowers at Derek, Cas studies them both with distant appraisal.

“You still want to do this?” Dean asks, brows arching.

Stiles takes a long moment to hotly drag his eyes over Dean’s body, then Cas all brooding darkness hovering behind Dean’s shoulder. He tilts his head to Derek, his brows lifted in question, ensuring that they are still on the same page, and Derek gives a stilted nod. “Hell yeah. I know what I’m bringing to this party,” he says gesturing to Derek over his shoulder. “One not  _ exactly _ human partner with icy eyes, dark hair, full lips,”

“My eyes are blue.” Cas mumbles his thoughts out loud, his brows dipping as he looks, expression slightly confused, at Derek. Stiles pauses for only a moment to smile excitedly at the man. _Adorable_ _and sexy_ he thinks.

“Yeah they are,” Stiles confirms with a wink before turning back to Dean and finishing his thought “...obviously we both have a thing for a sexy brooding expression, and an aura of murderously unearthly danger… so, a wager, yeah? Unless I’ve royally missed my mark, I’ve got something you’ll like, that is if you’re both willing to share. I think this could be a really great night for all involved…. But really that’s all up to you guys.”

Dean flushes slightly and for the first time really looks at Derek, actually considering all that Stiles is offering. Derek, who Stiles sees out of the corner of his eye, puffs up under Dean’s gaze. Standing straighter, shoulders back, eyes shadowed by his heavy brow, brooding darkly at Dean’s obvious perusal.

“Right.” Dean licks his lips and a slow easy smile spreads over his lips, Cas rolls his eyes. “I don’t think what you’re bringing can keep up with what I’ve got though.” Dean leans back into Cas’s embrace, and Cas runs his nose up into Dean’s hair as he accepts the man’s weight against his chest. Those cold blue eyes leave scorch marks as they travel over Stiles body. 

“We’re willing to take the chance if you are?” Stiles counters because all this foreplay is really getting his motor running, but if it doesn’t end with the four of them in a tangle of limbs in bed he’s going to be really, extremely disappointed. “How about this. Derek will go to the bar and grab us all another round and we’ll play for it.” He pulls his wallet out of his pocket and drops a crisp hundred dollar bill on the edge of the table, then, just for dramatics, he places a condom on top of that. “If we win, you come home with us. If you win, you take the money and live your lives wondering if my tongue is as talented as it appears to be.”

“He certainly does talk a lot,” Cas rumbles, his hand appearing at Dean’s hip and curving possessively around it.

“You have no idea,” Derek laments and Sitles gapes at him.

“Ok, rude,” he says pointing at Derek before rounding on the other couple. “Do we have a deal?”

Cas and Dean seem to have some kind of silent conversation with their eyes before Cas steps around Dean and pulls his wallet out of his pocket. He too drops a crisp hundred on the table edge and follows it up with a packet of lube. Stiles nearly melts into a puddle of arousal right then and there.

“Deal,” Cas rumbles. He steps back, slowly rolling up the sleeves of his white button down shirt, exposing the surprisingly well-developed muscles of his forearms. Now Stiles needs to know what kind of body is hiding under the rest of Cas’s baggy clothes. What really surprises Stiles, though, is that once he saw Dean he’d assumed that Dean was the one calling the shots but it appears that Cas is exactly the toppy bastard Stiles had pegged him for when they brushed up against one another at the bar.

“Fuck yeah,” Stiles moans excitedly and Dean smirks, reracking the balls and tossing Derek a cue when he returns with all the drinks.

“So, you convinced them?” Derek says as he chalks the tip of his stick, assessing the table.

“You know the wonders my mouth works, of course I did.” Stiles winks and Derek just rolls his eyes.

“At least they smell nice,” Derek whispers into Stiles hair. He pulls him close and they both watch Dean lean over the table and with practiced ease break the rack, sinking three balls.

“Better bring your A-Game Sourwolf, looks like these guys know what they’re doing.”

\---

“Oh  _ fuck _ . Yes, fuck” 

Stiles back slams up against the wall, his head knocking back hard, but nothing can distract him from the hands gripping his thighs holding him open. His legs are wrapped around Dean’s hips and the man–a hunter it turns out, and ok that took a little convincing to get Derek back on board–hotly rocks their erections together. Dean’s busy sucking and nipping down the column of Stiles throat as Stiles madly tugs at his over shirt attempting, and failing, to strip the fabric from his body. Dean doesn't even tremble at the effort of holding Stiles up and that is so fucking hot.

“Dean, bed.” Cas’ familiar growl commands and Dean’s moving before Stiles even recognize what’s going on.

“You–ah,  _ yes _ fuck,– you always take orders so well?” Stiles asks breathless as Dean drops him gracelessly onto the hotel room bed.

“Shut up Stiles,” Dean snarks dropping to his knees and pulling Stiles to the edge of the bed by his thighs.

“God.” Stiles manages, his arms flailing as he’s manhandled. Dean starts working open his belt as Derek strips off his shirt and strides up behind the hunter.

“Let me touch your mate,” Derek grumbles and Cas inclines his head. 

“That is what we are here for after all,” Cas says as he slowly undoes the buttons on his shirt, tossing his tie up onto the pillows like he has  _ plans _ for it later.

Derek’s hands slip into Dean’s hair and the hunter stills for the briefest moment, his bright eyes fluttering. Derek grumbles a pleased sound as his fingers tighten and Dean’s head tilts back and he moans low and long in his throat.

“Pretty,” Derek says with a smirk his other hand trails fingertips over the exposed length of Dean’s neck.

“Vampire?” Dean’s eyelashes flutter as he looks up at Derek, lips parted and flushed from where he and Stiles had been kissing.

“ _ EERR–EERR. _ ” Stiles makes a buzzer noise as he kicks his feet, legs flopping wildly to get his jeans off and onto the floor next to Dean. “Wrong.” He moans more than says as he palms his hard cock. It’s tenting the front of his blue and yellow honeybee boxers, leaving a wet spot from how wound up he is. Belatedly he wishes he wore sexier underwear, something like the...

“Oh fuck…” Stiles groans dropping his head back and sending a silent prayer to whatever God was looking out for him tonight, because Derek has pulled Dean to his feet by his hair, Dean’s jeans are bunched around his knees and Derek is sucking a dark mark on Dean’s neck as he palms the hunters thick hard cock through what are undoubtedly a pair of black lace, women's panties.

“How is this real? How is this my life?” Stiles manages, panting, heart pounding in his ribs, watching Derek devour Dean’s neck as the hunter’s abs tremble on each exhale he takes. “How did…”

“Just lucky I surmise,” Cas responds deeply as the bed by Stiles shoulders dips under his weight. Cas’ hands slip into Stiles hair angling his head back. He’s stripped his clothes off and kneels over Stiles completely nude, and his body is everything Stiles hoped it would be. Hard planes of muscle under tanned skin and absently Stiles curses the ugly baggy suit the man was wearing. Cas shifts wrapping a wade palmed hand around the thick, hard, cock rising flush from his hips and Stiles mouth waters at the sight of it. 

“Oh fuck,” he says as Cas angles his head back and shoves a pillow up under his shoulders. Sitles hand snaps down and squeezes the base of his dick, his lips parting hungrily. “Yes, yes give it to me,” he moans and then gasps as his boxers are ripped from his legs. His eyes snap down to see Dean completely nude and bent over at the waist. Derek standing powerfully behind him, chest heaving as he sucks air in through his nose and mouth. 

The scents of arousal in the room must be overpowering. His eyes flash red and Stiles shivers as he watches Derek part Dean’s cheeks and slip his glistening fingers between the plush mounds of Dean’s ass. 

“Oh fuck, yes. Derek,” Stiles moans as Dean tosses his head back, baring his neck, and Stiles knows what that does to Derek as he snarls. Dean sighs, hips lifting, his eyes opening and looking just above Stiles head, at Cas. He bites his bottom lip and exhales roughly as Derek begins to finger him. 

“Cas…” Dean grunts. “Shut him up.” 

Dean’s hands convulse on Stiles thighs where he’s leaning over him. Strong fingers biting into his flesh as he rocks back onto Derek’s hands. Stiles bites his lip until it hurts because that’s all he can do to keep from coming right then and there.

“Oh, I don’t know,” Cas says his fingers tightening in Stiles hair and bringing his head back again. “You know how I like it when you beg. I think I could grow used to the timbre of his voice.” 

Cas smirks and there is something dark and dangerous about it. Stiles cock flexes, brushing against Dean’s chin. The hunters arms tremble next to Stiles thighs as he bows his back and gives into what Derek’s talented fingers are doing to him. Dean cants forward even more his lush mouth, moist, parted lips puff hot, wet breaths over Stiles swollen cockhead. 

“It gets really husky if you fuck his throat though,” Derek responds calmly as his hands slide up Deans back, to angle the hunter lower, his hips higher, pressing Dean’s mouth towards Stiles’ aching erection. 

“Does it?” Cas asks, just as unaffected. As if they are talking about the fucking weather. And fuck the both of them, Stiles thinks, because he and Dean are panting, writhing, messes. Sweating and swearing, with rapidly beating human hearts, lust leaking from their pores, and for once it’s nice to not be alone in the ‘ _ I’m fucking a supernatural creature _ ’ club.

“No, it does--” Stiles cuts off as Cas presses the tip of his cock in. Its warm, and flush, different than Derek’s, longer and narrower but just as good. The taste is spicy and electric, and Stiles groans, his eyes rolling back, his mouth going slack as he takes, and takes, and takes until Cas’ balls are pressed up against his forehead. 

“Good boy,” Derek rumbles and Stiles whimpers, causing Cas to hum thoughtfully, his thighs flex and he draws out of Stiles throat slightly before pushing back in.

“And you, pet,” Cas says and Stiles legs spasm as Dean drops down and sucks his entire length into his hot wet mouth. Cas’s hands slide over Stiles chest, tweaking his nipples, massaging his pectorals as Cas begins to slowly fuck into the slippery heat of Stiles mouth. 

It’s sensory overload and if Stiles wasn’t already used to having sensory overload, he’s sure he would be coming right now. But instead he’s able to focus, his ears straining, fingers twisting in the sheets, in Dean’s hair, and he knows the exact moment Derek takes his fingers away and fucks his thick cock into Dean’s body.

Dean trembles, his nails scratching down Stiles thighs, and the vibration of his whine along Stiles cock makes his toes curl.

“Fuck,” Derek curses softly and the sound makes Stiles warm.

He loses track of time after that. At some point Dean’s fingers delve into his ass and stretch him wide, massaging at his prostate as Cas leaves trails of precome down his throat and along his lips, whispering praise about his mouth and throat. Stiles comes, hard and hot, and his vision whites out and he’s sure he’s screaming and arching off the bed like he’s being fucking electrocuted, and Dean is cursing, groaning something like: “ _ Fuck _ . Fuck, that’s so fucking hot. Is it always like that?”

Derek laughs softly, the steady slap, slap, slap, of skin on skin as he fucks Dean’s ass slowing until it stops and nothing can be heard but Stiles moaning and whimpering until Derek says, “Sometimes.”

Hands are moving him, flipping him over, and all he can do is breathe out, “Derek, Derek...” until Derek is there and petting his hair and kissing his cheek and sucking along his neck and he says, “Dean’s going to fuck you now, ok?”

Stiles nods, reaching out until Derek takes his hand for a moment, letting go to prop Stiles hips up, gets his knees bent and spread and braced and quietly, from farther away now, Derek says, “If Dean can make Stiles come again I’ll let you fuck me.” 

Cas says, “And if he can’t?”

“I’ll fuck you,” Derek responds and Stiles knows the statement is followed by a shrug.

“Alright.”

Just like that, there’s a hard lubed cock sliding into his body, Stiles’s eyelids flutter as Dean’s weight lays over him, soft hands petting into his hair and Dean’s voice rumbles soothingly deep into his ear, “You’re so good Stiles, so hot and tight around me.” He thrusts and Stiles gasps because Dean’s thick and veiny, and each little ridge pulses inside his body. Dean’s hands grip Stiles hips, his mouth nipping, sucking down Stiles throat, and Stiles quivers under his weight. Already his cock is plumping, stirring back to life between his legs, and his hips hitch and he meets Dean’s next thrust. 

“You’re so pretty when you come, Stiles,” Dean moans, teeth pulling at Stiles earlobe. “Can you come for me again? I want to feel you come on my cock.”

Stiles lets out a high whine as his fingers grapple with the bed sheets. “That’s it, that's it, Stiles,” Dean pants, his hips snapping forward, nailing Stiles prostate with deadly precision. “Let me have it.”

“Talkative.” Derek’s voice pierces the cloud of pleasure in Stiles mind. 

“I guess you could say we both have a type,” Cas responds and there is a shiver in his voice that makes Stiles picture them jerking one another off. 

“Freckles,” Derek says, as if he’s agreeing.

“I did not think I’d be partial to moles but with his fair skin and build, it works n–nicely,” Cas sighs as if something sweetly pleasurable occurred.

“Mmmhum,” Derek hums in understanding.

“I wanna see,” Stiles bites out, his voice raspy and raw from announcing his pleasure all night long. “Let me see, let me see.”

Dean’s hips falter for just a moment before he’s hauling Stiles upright and spreading his thighs further so they bracket Dean’s hips. He pulls Stiles head back by his hair until his neck is exposed, and his eyelids flutter and their bodies move against one another in a slick sweaty slide. He turns them until Stiles is rocking back on Dean’s lap with each labored hitch of his breath. Dean’s hand spread low and controlling against Stiles abdomen, guiding each little twitch of Stiles hips and he can see them, Derek and Cas leaning back against the tall fancy footboard, legs splayed out in front of them, eyes equally hooded, arms stretched out towards one another, gripping each other's cocks and slowly jerking one another off. 

“You miss me?” Derek asks as Cas flicks his wrist in a way that makes Derek’s lip lift in the silent snarl he does when he’s particularly enjoying something.

“Yeah…” Stiles sighs and he knows it’s pathetic, but the way Derek’s eyes flash red in approval makes his ass clench and Dean grunt behind him. 

“Fuck, yes. Stiles, do that again.” Dean moans against the skin of Stiles shoulder.

Derek flashes his eyes again and Stiles body reacts, ass clenching, cock leaking precome down his shaft. Stiles arms fly up gripping Dean’s bulging biceps as Dean curls around him, moaning. “Close, so close.”

“Dean…” Cas groans as Derek fists his cock. 

Stiles feels Dean’s head lift from where he’s dropped it on the back of Stiles shoulder. There’s a moment where the tension ratchets up and then Dean goes quiet, his hips rock back and snap forward with new purpose and Stiles keens, pleasure shooting through his limbs lighting him up. Dean drops his hand, one wide, warm, calloused palm gripping Stiles cock and pumping it in tandem with his thrusts. 

“Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck.  _ Dean... _ ” Stiles eyes go wide as he comes again, his cock aching as it spurts, his balls drawn up tight. Dean rides him through his orgasm, panting in his ear, “Yes fuck. Stiles, so tight.” He lifts his hand, dripping with Stiles’ release, to his mouth and sucks his fingers clean, moaning about Stiles flavor and how Cas should taste him and Stiles must have died at some point because Dean rams into him as he grunts out praise. And Stiles feels like he’s floating somewhere about ten feet above his body, his eyes fixed on Derek, heavy-lidded barely open, Derek smirks and Stiles comes crashing back into himself moaning and hiccuping.

Dean’s pushing Stiles over, pressing his palms to Stiles back, forcing his chest to the bed and with the quick hard snap, snap, snap, of his hips, he comes. Groaning long and low, his fingers clawing against Stiles flank and dragging, leaving long red lines against his pale flesh.

“Fucking hell,” Derek comments, and his voice is rough and strained.

“I could watch them do that all night,” Cas manages, and for the first time his voice is tight, arousal laced into each and every word. 

“Yeah,” Derek agrees breathless, before clearing his throat, “But a deal is a deal,” to which Cas hums his agreement.

They slip from the bed as Stiles and Dean collapse down against one another panting. 

“You cheated,” Stiles whispers as Dean shuffles their exhausted forms away from the wet spot and towards the end of the bed. Stiles is just too spent to even try and move on his own now. He barely has control of his limbs on a good day let alone after a mind-numbing series of orgasms. 

“How do you figure?” Dean asks as he swirls his fingers around Stiles’ puffy, well-used hole. Dean gently fingers his come back into Stiles body, and fuck, if that’s not hot.

Across from them, Derek drops his torso onto the edge of the bed and Cas stands behind him, massaging the globes of Derek’s ass. Dean wraps his limbs around Stiles, snuggling him close. Dean’s warm and broad, but not as warm as Derek. He’s got less body hair, too, and Stiles can’t help but miss the way Derek’s chest tickles his back when they lay like this.

“You can control your orgasm,”  Stiles says softly, and both he and Dean hold their breath when Derek lets out a low panting whine as Cas sinks into him.

“And that’s cheating because?” Dean asks, and the way his fingers are slowly creeping over Stiles hip as they watch Cas completely dominate Derek has the low stirrings of arousal sparking in his gut.

Cas’s hands are everywhere, his hips roll and snap with a speed Stiles thought only Derek was capable of. It’s a battle of wills, both of them snarling and growling. Derek pushes back and Cas leans in, easily pressing him to the mattress. Stiles wonders again exactly what kind of creature Cas is. Very few beings can overpower a werewolf's strength as easily as Cas seems to.

“Because it is,” Stiles says petulantly, remembering his whispered conversation with Dean as Dean’s fingers dip between his thighs and gently caress Stiles’ balls. They are both breathing hard as they watch their partners fuck. It’s hot, it’s so fucking hot, and when Dean’s hips roll slowly against Stiles’ ass he can feel the soft chub of the Dean’s renewed interest.

Derek orgasms first his eyes flashing, burning red, locked on Stiles. His cock jerks and he plasters the bed in thick white ropes of come, roaring his pleasure like they aren’t trying to hide the fact that he’s ‘not quite human’. Derek always comes a lot, so much more than Stiles ever has. He’s still coming when Cas tips over the edge, his orgasm shuddering through him as his back bows and his hands convulse on Derek’s hips. The light bulb on the bedside table explodes, shards of glass tinkling, sparks jumping before plunging the room into darkness. 

Stiles stiffens in Dean’s arms. “What  _ exactly _ did you bring to the fuck fest?” He asks his voice a whisper in the dim, still air. Across the bed, Derek’s eyes glow–two bright red pinpoints–in the pitch black.

“An angel,” Dean responds quietly. His breathing slows as if he’s trying to stay calm. “What’d you bring?”

“A werewolf," Stiles says, looking up to see two brightly glowing blue eyes hovering over Derek's head. "I didn't think angels were a thing."

“Yeah… yeah they are.” Dean says and his fingers pull gently on Stiles nutsack, causing him to hiss.

“I’ve never been fucked by an angel,” Stiles says thoughtfully after a moment as his cock hardens, finally deciding to get back in the game. “You think they’d charge us for the lightbulbs if we blow them all?”

“Only one way to find out,” Dean says with a rough chuckle. 

“We know a vampire, too,” Cas offers calmly, and there’s a filthy sucking noise as he pulls out of Derek’s body.

“We’ve got a Chimera?” Derek counters.

“A what?” Dean asks.

“A Chimera,” Stiles gasps as Dean slips his hard cock between Stiles’ cheeks, rolling it through the lube and come slowly drying there. “P––part werewolf, part werecoyote”

“There are werecoyotes?” Cas asks and the bed shifts as he and Derek climb back into it.

“Y–yeah,” Stiles moans, his body arching as Dean wraps his hand around Stiles cock again.

“Huh,” Cas says.

“I think this is the best idea you’ve ever had,” Derek says and his glowing eyes drift closer in the darkness, until he’s pressing a soft kiss to Stiles lips.

“And that’s saying something,” Stiles manages, breaking the kiss as Dean gently flicks his cockhead. “Fuck, someone turn on a light so I can see all your stupidly attractive faces.”

The bed creaks and Cas is suddenly standing by the desk, flicking on the lamp there. Stiles bows his neck and licks his lips. “Now it’s my turn. I’m the birthday boy, and I wanna be touched by an angel.”

Derek groans and Stiles snorts.

“I don’t understand…”

“It’s ok, babe,” Dean cuts in laughter in his voice as he drops his head into the crook of Stiles shoulder “Stiles is just as big of a dork as I am.”

Needless to say, Stiles is touched... a lot. By an angel, a werewolf, and a hunter. And when the sun rises the next day, there’s a little slip of paper is stuck to the nightstand:

 

_ Dean & Castiel Winchester- 555.6248 _

_ Bring your chimera. We’ll bring the vampire. _

 

“Holy shit,” Derek whispers as he collapses back into the bed. “Winchesters?!  _ Fuck _ , they’re more renowned, more  _ dangerous _ than the Argents.”

“Yeah,” Stiles gulps. “Glad we left such a good impression.” He squirms in the sheets because  _ hello, fear boner. _ Stiles will definitely be calling them, and soon.

**Author's Note:**

> **Bonus scene:**
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> In the Impala on the ride home:
> 
>  _Cas_ : You threw that pool game, didn’t you?  
> Dean: Absolutely. Did you see the bubble butt on Derek? Really Cas, it’s not all that often that a couple who looks likes them shows up with an offer like that.  
>  _Cas_ : I suppose you’re right.  
> Dean: Plus, I saw the way you looked at Stiles mouth every time the boy opened it... Which was a lot.  
>  _Cas_ : It was a lot, and yes, he does have a very pretty mouth.  
> Dean: Yeah, I hope they call.  
>  _Cas_ : They will.
> 
>  
> 
>  **P.S** They did.
> 
>  
> 
> Ok, so this was my first try at any sort of multi partner pairing. There were a lot of limbs and organs involved but hopefully I didn't make too big of a mess of the whole thing. I would love to hear your thoughts! Send me images of Sterek and Destiel or just come fangirl with me on [Tumblr](https://hartlessfiction.tumblr.com/)
> 
> The banner art is by the one and only [@EnvyDean](http://envydean.tumblr.com/) go yell at her on tumblr too
> 
>  
> 
> **Comments and kudos activate my praise kink <3**


End file.
